


A Family Christmas

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: Antagonism, Gen, Pre-ship, season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9000040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: Kent Davison.Urgh.Selina could think of a few people that she’d rather spend less time with, but Andrew and her mom were already there, and Saddam Hussain was dead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Intronerd for the suggestion. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!

  

It was almost a relief when Burrows came to tell her that she had a visitor. Then she made the mistake of asking who it was.

Kent Davison.

Urgh.

Selina could think of a few people that she’d rather spend less time with, but Andrew and her mom were already there, and Saddam Hussain was dead.

Selina had half a mind to tell Kent to fuck off, but it was Christmas Day. It might be important. Maybe POTUS was dead.

Nah, her luck wasn’t that good.

Davison was waiting in the India room. Selina took a moment to neaten her hair before she walked into the room.

‘This better be...’ She looked around the room. ‘What the fuck are you doing on the floor?’

He was crouched down. When he stood up, she saw that he’d been fussing the mangy old mutt that her mother had brought with her.

‘Aren’t dogs supposed to be happier remaining in the vicinity of their owners?’ he asked, cleaning his hands with a wipe. ‘They’re noted as being remarkably dependant, emotionally and socially, on their owners.’

Selina sneered. ‘Lemme guess, you’re a lizard guy?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘In fact, I have cats.’

Selina blinked. ‘You’re fucking kidding.’

‘Not at all.’

‘What the fuck are you doing petting my mom’s lap rat?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve noticed that the animosity some dog owners have for cats is largely a one-way street. Cat owners don’t typically despise dogs, or mice, birds, or fish.’

‘You know there’s a parasite in cat shit that can mess up people’s brains?’ Selina asked.

He nodded. ‘Do you know how many Americans are killed every year by dogs?’

Selina snorted. ‘More than by cats I’m guessing. Are we including being tripped up?’

‘No, mauled. If we include tripping, then cows are by far the worst offender.’

Selina shuddered. ‘Nature is fucking brutal.’ She put her hand on her hip. ‘What do you want, Kent?’

He spread his hands. ‘What I want is peace on earth and goodwill to all people. What POTUS _needs_ is for you give this statement.’

Selina snatched it from his hand. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘It’s merely clarification that the White House has Christmas trees not “holiday trees,” and that POTUS will not be making his scheduled trip tomorrow.’

Selina narrowed her eyes. ‘This is some bullshit. Why isn’t he making his own speech? Why isn’t he travelling tomorrow?’

‘FLOTUS is feeling somewhat... fragile,’ Kent said.

Selina snorted. ‘Tell her to quit the Jägerbombs.’

Kent’s smile was closer to a flinch. ‘Most droll.’

‘I’ll do this tomorrow,’ she said, folding it up.

Kent raised a finger. ‘POTUS would prefer –’

‘Tomorrow. It’s Christmas Day! I deserve one fucking day a year where I’m not running around cleaning up his messes.’

Kent pointed at the carpet. ‘On the subject of messes...’

Selina moved around to look. The dog looked not merely untroubled by guilt but positively enthusiastic.

Selina sighed. ‘My mom has had dogs all my life and not one of them didn’t hate me.’

‘I thought dogs like everyone. Isn’t that a significant part of the attraction?’

‘Ha! Spoken like a cat guy.’ Selina stalked over to the door. ‘They love their owners, whoever they are, but everyone else takes their chances.’

Kent met her by the door. Christ, he had long legs.

‘This has been... charming,’ Kent said.

‘Yeah,’ Selina said. ‘Don’t want to keep you from your... whatever.’

***

‘Your dog crapped on the carpet,’ Selina announced.

‘Selina Catherine Meyer, language,’ her mother croaked.

‘What did Kent want?’ Catherine asked suspiciously. ‘Are you running off?’

It was tempting. ‘No, POTUS wants me to give a statement. I told him that I’d do it tomorrow. How did you know it was him?’

Andrew gestured towards the window. ‘He seems to be having an issue with his car.’

There was a deep groan as Mrs Eaton levered herself up at of her chair. She leaned heavily on her sticks as she hobbled to the window.

‘Jesus, don’t everyone stare out of the window,’ Selina muttered, sitting down. ‘That’s a good-looking man,’ Mrs Eaton said.

‘Catherine, give Mee-Maw her glasses,’ Selina said.

Andrew sat opposite Selina and gave her an amused look.

‘I am wearing my glasses,’ her mother said. ‘You don’t have the taste of a stray cat, you never did.’ She shuffled back to her seat. ‘Is he married?’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘ _Kent?_ ’

‘I don’t think he can get his car going,’ Catherine said. ‘He’s coming back to the house.’

‘You can’t afford to be so fastidious. You’re not as young as you used to be.’

Andrew tried to cover up his fit of laughter with a fake cough. It didn’t work.

‘Jesus, Mom. Nobody is as young as they used to be,’ Selina said. ‘That’s literally how time works. You remember time, they invented it when you were a kid.’

Mrs Eaton clucked her tongue. ‘It’s no wonder that you can’t keep a man with your mouth. No man wants a woman who swears like a sailor. It’s unladylike.’

Burrows cleared his throat. ‘Ma’am, your visitor –’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ Selina said to him.

‘You were certainly raised to be politer to servants than that,’ Mrs Eaton said.

‘This isn’t nineteen-twenty,’ Selina said.

‘You talk too much as well,’ her mother continued. ‘Men don’t like women who talk too much. A woman’s role is to be demure and silent.’

Selina thumped the arm of her chair. ‘Believe what you want Mom, but don’t be saying this stuff in front of Catherine.’

 ‘You wear far too much makeup as well. No man wants a painted jezebel.’

Andrew leaned forward. ‘Can we show her _Jersey shore_ , please?’

‘In my day, a lady –’

Selina got to her feet. ‘This isn’t your day; it hasn’t been “your day” for about fifty years. Burrows is staff, not a servant. I don’t give a damn whether men want a woman who are “demure” and “ladylike.” I especially don’t care about the thoughts of people who think wearing foundation and eye makeup means I’m a “painted Jezebel” whoever that is.’

‘A queen of Israel who met a particularly gruesome death after persecuting Jewish prophets.’

Selina turned and stared at Kent.

‘She was a harlot,’ Mrs Eaton said.

‘In fact, her liking of finery and makeup was merely a character detail,’ Kent said. ‘Religious zealots then used her name as an insult against women they disliked. Later the whole issue became conflated with the idea of prostitution and loose morality.’

‘Well, that was fascinating,’ Selina said. ‘Why are you still here?’

‘I have two flats,’ he said. ‘It appears that there is some broken glass on your drive.’

Andrew shifted in his seat. ‘I dropped a bottle of wine I was bringing. I was sure I’d cleared it up.’

Kent narrowed his eyes. ‘Evidently not.’

‘Call for a tow,’ Selina said.

‘I have. However, as I have been reminded, it’s Christmas day and I’ve been told the wait will be considerable.’

‘How long is that?’ Selina asked.

Kent shrugged. ‘Possibly before midnight.’

‘Sucks to be you, buddy,’ Andrew said.

Selina turned on him. ‘Oh, no you don’t, buster. You created this mess. You drive Kent to D.C.’

‘I could call a cab –’

‘Mom, it’s Christmas!’ Catherine protested.

‘There’s enough food for another person,’ Mrs Eaton said.

‘That wasn’t what I mean,’ Catherine said.

Selina waved her hands. ‘Mom, you... you don’t know –’

‘It’s kind of our fault,’ Andrew said.

‘ _Your_ fault,’ Selina said, ‘and not a “kind of,” Jesus.’ She turned to Kent. ‘You don’t want to stay, right?’

‘I would rather return home,’ he said.

‘Great.’

He checked his watch. ‘I need to feed my cats. Perhaps Miss Idris next door can check on them.’

‘Cats?’ Catherine asked. ‘That’s who you have waiting at home?’

Selina groaned. ‘What about your... mom? You’re one of those fully-grown mommy's boys.’

Kent ignored the insult. He normally did. ‘She’s visiting my sister and her family.’

Mrs Eaton shook her head. ‘Selina this is a moment for Christian charity.’

Selina gave up. She gave Kent a jaundiced look. ‘So, do you…you wanna have Christmas dinner with us?’

‘Thank you,’ he said meekly.

‘Yeah. Whatever.’

***

If Selina didn’t know he was physically incapable of it, then she would’ve sworn he was nervous and uncomfortable.

Huh.

He was crushed in the corner of the couch, avoiding touching Catherine like he was worried he might catch coolies. Selina’s mom had commandeered the armchair that Andrew had been sat in, all the better to interrogate Kent.

‘You’re not married?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Divorced?’

‘May I ask how my marital state is important?’ Kent asked.

Mrs Eaton sniffed. ‘You’re very well dressed. Are you queer?’

‘Mom!’ Selina protested. ‘You cannot ask people personal questions.’

‘Evidently, I can. You mean that I _shouldn’t_ , which is an entirely different issue.’

Kent was watching Selina. He looked very slightly amused.

‘In any event, I believe that “queer” is a reclaimed word,’ he said.

‘That means it should only be used by people who identify as gay, or lesbian,’ said Catherine. ‘Or bisexual, pansexual, or um, I think maybe asexual?’

‘Slugs are asexual,’ Mrs Eaton said. ‘People are hermaphrodites.

‘Goodness,’ Kent said mildly. ‘That is... astonishingly wrong in every particular.’

‘This is my favourite ever Christmas with your mother,’ Andrew whispered to Selina.

She glared at him.

‘Are you?’ Mrs Eaton asked Kent.

‘I am neither a slug, which are hermaphrodites, or asexual, which is a legitimate and acknowledged point of the spectrum of human sexuality.’

Selina poured herself a glass of wine. ‘Gotta say, Kent, asexual would have been my bet.’

Catherine scowled. ‘It’s not an insult, Mom.’

Selina waved her hand. ‘Course not, honey. But all that messy sex and complicated romance seem like you’d fine them illogical, Kent. I have to imagine that you’d prefer something clean and simple. Like spoors.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you often imagine my sexual presences, Ma’am?’

Selina took a sip of wine. ‘Only as an example of how not to do it.’

‘Whoa, save the sexual tension for when there aren’t children, mothers, or ex-husbands present, eh guys?’ Andrew asked.

Selina gaped at him. ‘Sexual tension?’

‘He was joking, Mom,’ Catherine said tiredly.

‘Teasing,’ Andrew said too brightly.

He wasn’t joking. Selina was sure of that.

***

‘How did you get stuck with this job?’ Andrew asked Kent as they sat down to dinner.

‘Someone has to be available in event of an emergency. Ben has a both current and former wives, children, and stepchildren to accommodate.’

Selina shook her head. ‘What marriage is he up to now?’

‘Four, I believe,’ Kent said.

‘Imagine having that many mothers-in-law,’ Andrew said to Kent.

Kent frowned. ‘Although I assume your intent was humour, I don’t find misogyny clever or witty.’

‘Why aren’t there any father-in-law jokes?’ Catherine wondered.

Selina impaled a piece of potato with her fork. ‘Same reason there aren’t any “Yo Daddy” jokes. They’re a weak excuse to take a pop at women.’

Kent sipped his wine. ‘It’s an interesting deflection. If a man has been divorced three times, as Ben has, then he must have some major defect. One marriage fails – it happens. Two marriages fail – poor fortune. Three marriages fail – one must assume the common denominator is to blame.’

‘I would never be so vulgar as to make a “yo mama" joke,’ Andrew said.

Catherine cut up her nut loaf. ‘The first written “yo mama” joke is in Shakespeare.’

‘That can’t be right,’ Selina said.

‘ _Titus Andronicus_ ,’ Kent said. He looked at Catherine. ‘Have you seen it?’

‘Only the movie.’

Kent smirked as he drank some wine. ‘At least we’re not eating pie.’

Catherine gagged. ‘Oh, my God, you did not have to remind me of that!’

‘Pie?’ Selina asked.

‘Don’t explain!’ Catherine wailed.

Kent held up his hands. ‘Apologies.’

‘Pie isn’t something that should have that effect,’ Selina said.

Kent shrugged. ‘The play has been referred to as Shakespeare’s Tarantino period. It is extremely violent and bloody but with sex and jokes rather than the desperate gravity and poetry of _King Lear_ or _Macbeth_.’

Selina groaned. ‘Doesn’t sound like something you’d enjoy, Kent.’

He shrugged. ‘Certain pieces of art, literature, and the like have had seismic effects on our culture. It makes sense to be conversant with them.’

Selina nodded. ‘While the rest of us experience our culture by being human beings and experiencing it, you research it like an alien visitor. Figures.’

Kent leaned forward. ‘Ma’am, when was the last time you read a book or saw a play?’

‘Hey, I’m cultured! I play the piano.’

‘If one can call that terrible noise “playing” then one might as well call Liberace tasteful,’ Mrs Eaton croaked.

‘There’s a timely reference,’ Andrew said.

‘I’m talking about understanding culture,’ Kent said. ‘Any understanding of popular culture that politicians have they quickly lose.’

Selina stabbed her turkey with a fork. ‘I think we all know there’s a huge gulf between pop culture and actual culture.’

‘Agreed, unfortunately you’re on the wrong side.’

‘Hey!’

Catherine rolled her eyes. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. Intellectual art and is better than the disposable, tacky, meaningless drivel most people watch or read.’

‘That’s only obvious to people with a certain education and outlook,’ Kent said. ‘To everyone else the opposite is true.’

‘Make your mind up,’ Selina said. ‘Shakespeare or... movies about exploding cars. It can’t be both.’

‘It _has_ to be both.’ Kent said. ‘The cultural language of America embraces _Downton Abbey_ and _Dancing with the Stars_.’

Selina cooked her head. ‘I can’t be everything to everybody.’

‘Isn’t that your job?’ Andrew said.

Catherine shuddered. ‘In three hundred years, people might be studying _Days of our Lives_ as important cultural documents.’

‘I could never commit to a soap opera,’ Selina said. ‘You have to watch every episode single episode. I don’t have time for that!’

‘My mother adored _Passions_ ,’ Kent said.

Selina squinted at him. ‘Wasn’t _Passions_ the one with the doll? And zombies?’

‘What?’ Catherine asked.

Kent was nodding. ‘I believe there was also at least one demon possession.’

‘In a soap opera?’ Catherine asked disbelievingly.

Mrs Eaton leaned forward. ‘I used to watch _Dark Shadows_.’ Her rheumy eyes twinkled. ‘We had viewing parties.’

Kent regarded her steadily. ‘If I recall correctly, the lead character was a reluctant vampire. My mother and her friends were rather... enamoured.’

She sighed. ‘Barnaby Collins could bite my neck.’

Selina flashed a look of disgust at Kent. He shrugged.

‘Poor Daddy,’ Selina said. ‘That’s all I can say.’ She caught Kent’s expression. ‘What?’

‘You refer to your father as "Daddy" yet deride me for being a "mommy’s boy." Why is being inordinately attached to your father more acceptable?’

‘Because that’s how the world works,’ Selina said. ‘Daddy’s girl is okay, but mommy’s boy is effeminate.’

She didn’t know how she wanted him to react. Storming out would’ve been way too much to hope for, but she expected _something_. Some response more than a slight frown.

‘I don’t believe I’ve been called than before,’ he said.

‘Truth hurts, huh?’

‘Mom,’ Catherine said. ‘Come on.’

Selina waved her hand. ‘You think you’re fooling people with the lumberjack shtick but I’ve got gay friends. I know some of those guys love beards.’

Kent looked away. His shoulders were shaking.

He was laughing at her.

‘That’s enough wine for you,’ Andrew said, taking away her glass.

‘Oh, my God, mom,’ Catherine moaned. ‘I can’t believe you!’

Selina waved her hand. ‘You know I didn’t mean... I know effeminate and gay are totally different things.’ She leaned forward to poke Kent’s shoulder. ‘Stop laughing at me.’

Kent nodded but didn’t look at her.

‘Have you quite finished?’ Mrs Eaton asked. ‘That a daughter of mine should be so rude to a guest is beyond the pale.’

Selina drummed her fingers on the table. She forced her voice to be calm and even. ‘Kent is not a guest, mom. He’s the guy at work who hates me and who in some horrific joke of the universe has to wait here a few hours. He doesn’t want to be here and we don’t want him here.’

Kent stopped laughing.

***

Selina pulled her coat tightly around her as she trudged through the fresh snowfall. Kent was leaning against his car with his back to the house.

‘Whatcha doing out here?’ Selina asked.

He looked up at the sky. ‘I was thinking that I would very much like a cigarette.’

Selina stood next to him. He shifted slightly away.

‘You smoke? Jeez, you seem like such a health nut.’

‘I used to smoke,’ he said, still not looking at her. ‘A long time ago. However, on occasion, the desire returns.’

Selina nodded. ‘Yeah, I manage to restrict myself to when I’m out of the country and dire fucking emergencies.’

She watched him. He gave no sign of responding.

‘Look, Kent, about what I said –’

‘You made your position utterly pellucid,’ he said.

‘What?’

She thought she heard him sigh.

‘Transparent,’ he said. ‘Clear.’

Selina tucked her hands into her armpits. ‘Will you talk to me if I get you a cigarette?’

He looked at her. He didn’t look in the least bit amused. ‘Kindly don’t insult me with an obviously insincere apology.’

‘How about a convincing apology?

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘I wouldn’t overestimate my acting ability if I were you, Madam Vice-President.’

Selina sighed. ‘You are shit at taking apologies, you know that? I was genuinely apologetic about the lipstick thing and you wouldn’t let that go either.’

Now he folded his arms. ‘You laughed and said I made a funny noise.’

Selina groaned. ‘You did! I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d laugh too. People do, you know.’

‘Was I supposed to laugh when you had your outburst at dinner? I don’t recall anyone else being amused.’

Selina rubbed her face. ‘You heard the way my mom talks to me. I’ve had that all day. She’s always at my self-esteem with a fucking pickaxe, and then you turn up. You’re not exactly my biggest fan either, and Christmas is fucking stressful. Plus, fucking Andrew was needling me. I hate him even more than I hate you.’

Kent shook his head. ‘To sum up your apology: I can’t take an apology, it’s all the fault of your mother and ex-husband, and you hate me?’

‘Don’t be dick,’ Selina said quickly. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Precisely what you said.’

‘Some people would be grateful we’d taken them in out of the show and fed them.’ Selina said.

‘I am,’ he said quietly. ‘Although that makes me sound like a Dickensian orphan.’

Selina smiled. ‘You’re alone on Christmas Day. I think that makes you Scrooge.’

He sighed. ‘Someone has to remain available. Going to Chicago wasn’t an option.’

‘That’s where your folks are from?’

He nodded. ‘I can’t ask my mother to forgo Christmas dinner with my sister. Mother’s very elderly. She might not have many Christmases remaining.’

Selina touched his forearm. She didn’t know why. He smiled slightly.

‘You’re lucky,’ Selina said. ‘You like your mom a lot more than I like mine.’

‘She had a stroke a few years back, I believe?’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘I know what you’re thinking: she’s like that because of the stroke. Nah. She was always that bigoted and mean. She just got more open about it as she got older.’

Kent nodded. ‘My grandmother was the same.’

Selina huffed out a breath. ‘Jesus, it’s cold out here.’

‘Reminds me of home.’

‘Nostalgia won’t stop your butt freezing off,’ Selina said. ‘Can we go inside?’

He brushed snowflakes from his ridiculously thick hair. ‘I’m not preventing you, Ma’am.’

‘What do you want, an engraved invitation? Will you come back inside?’

He reached inside his jacket. ‘I’m going to call an Uber.’

‘All the way here and on Christmas Day? You could buy a small country for that. How’s that gonna look, Mr Strategist?’

He didn’t say anything, just turned on his cell.

‘Are you seriously gonna sulk out here like a toddler who lost his binky?’ Selina asked.

He looked at her blankly.

‘Binky. Pacifier. You never had a binky? Jesus. That explains so much about you.’

‘Madam Vice-President, you have made your dislike and distaste of me painfully clear,’ Kent said. ‘We must interact at work, that is unavoidable, but I see no reason to expose myself to your hatred purely because your mother and ex-husband will make remarks if I remain here.’

Selina shuffled her feet. ‘Come on, I don’t hate you. Not hate.’

‘It was your choice of word, not mine.’

‘It was hyperbole! Fuck. It’s not as if you like me either.’

Kent shook his head. ‘Your paranoia combines with your ego in the... peculiar ways.’

‘I’m not paranoid,’ she protested.

‘I fought for you,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Hughes wanted Doyle on the ticket,’ Kent said. ‘I fought for you. I knew you would win votes with women, minorities, and younger votes. I liked your policies. I thought you brought needed passion and energy to the campaign. So, I fought for you.’

Selina licked her lips. ‘You’re dismissive, you treat me like a piece of equipment to be put here or sent there.’

‘You’re the vice-president,’ he said. ‘You _are_ a piece of equipment, as every other vice-president has been, and doubtless as every other vice-president who follows will be. That’s the position, but you assume it’s personal. You assume your antagonism is always reciprocated. That is on you, Ma’am, not me or anyone else.’

Selina chewed her lower lip. ‘You don’t hate me?’

‘I’m not currently feeling particularly well disposed to you at the moment,’ he said. ‘But no, I don’t harbour any strong dislike.’

‘Oh. Shit,’ Selina said. ‘Sorry.’

Kent stepped away from the car. ‘Very well.’

Selina shook her head. ‘What, _now_ you’re coming inside?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘Because that apology was sincere.’

Selina fell into step with him. ‘Okay, you don’t hate me. But making me do the morning shows was you being a dick and getting revenge, right?’

‘Actually, that was FLOTUS’s idea,’ Kent said. ‘Now she does genuinely hate you.’

 

The End.


End file.
